


love, mum

by panlesters



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010 Phan, 2012 Phan, 2016/17? phan, Fluff, M/M, just gentle kath things, listen im not a dannie or a phillie im a kathie, present day phan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25864165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panlesters/pseuds/panlesters
Summary: kath's care packages over the years
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 32
Kudos: 120





	love, mum

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this so long ago and it took me ages to finish it but here she is! enjoy!!

Phil’s still unboxing when he hears the buzzer go. Strange, when no one really knows his new address yet, except for his parents. He heads down in the lift to find the postman, standing with a big box in the lobby, waiting for Phil to sign for it.

“Wow, surprise parcel,” Phil says with a light laugh. He’s never been very good at making small talk with postmen, and he supposes he’s not going to really start being good at it any time soon. He gets a bored look from the man and takes the package from his arms. It’s big, but not too heavy, and he recognises his mother’s handwriting. He texts her as he stands in the lift, asking what she’s sent him.

**Mum: Just a little something to get you settled in! Mum x**

He rolls his eyes and smiles. No matter how many times he’s told her she doesn’t need to sign her texts, she still does it. He’s past finding it embarrassing and now it’s become one of those endearing Kath things that make him feel warm inside.

He manages to get his door open and sets the package down on the side, grabbing some scissors to get into it. It’s taped together well, as every gift that comes from the Lester household is, and it takes him a good few minutes to break into it. There’s a note at the top in Kath’s neatest handwriting, and he pulls it out before he looks at anything else in the box.

_Since I can’t mother you in person, here’s a little care package for you to enjoy. Love, Mum x_

_save some of the nice treats for Dan, please x_

He feels a wave of warmth through his body to think that his mum considered Dan when she put this together, and begins to look through the box. There’s a few bags of sweets, some liquorice that she knows he likes, a knitted hat he knows must be from his Aunt Roz. He laughs when he sees the bags of vegetables in there, and then he sees a gift card for a slightly fancy restaurant in town. There’s £50 on it, and a note written on the back of the card. _Take your man somewhere special_ , it reads, and there’s that warmth again.

He doesn’t even look through the rest of the box before he rings Kath to thank her profusely. She tells him he and Dan deserve to go somewhere nice to celebrate his move into independence, and he grins and texts Dan as soon as they’re off the phone, telling him he has to come up soon. He has a dig through the rest of the box to find some scented candles, and at the bottom there are a couple of framed photos of his family. They’re the first pieces of décor to go on the walls, and it begins to feel more like home as soon as those familiar faces are there looking back at him.

* * *

_“How are things, Phil?”_ Kath asks, the gentleness in her voice making his bones ache with the desire to be back in the north, where things were simpler, and his relationship belonged to him and Dan and no one else.

“They’re… they’re not great, mum,” Phil mumbles eventually. He’s always struggled to tell the truth about these things. “That video, it… it really changed things. Dan’s kind of struggling.”

Kath coos down the phone and offers as many encouragements as she can for someone who can never really understand the weight of the situation he and Dan are in right now. She asks to speak to Dan too, ask how he is and give him some motherly words of wisdom.

“He’s not here right now, mum,” he says, resigned. “He goes off sometimes, he needs his space.”

_“Okay well, tell him I said hi,”_ she says gently. _“And tell him to ring me some time, it’s always nice to hear his voice.”_

“I will, mum,” Phil chokes out. They say their goodbyes and he’s left alone in the house again, waiting for Dan to get home.

He kicks Dan out of bed a few mornings later when they hear the doorbell ring at 8am. Dan grumbles about _what have you ordered this time_ but he goes anyway, greeting the postman in his pyjamas and carrying the massive box up the many flights of stairs to their room. It’s addressed to both of them, he finds, and he thinks he recognises the handwriting from somewhere.

“Get up Phil, it’s for both of us,” he says, kicking the door to their room open and startling Phil where he’d fallen back asleep. He fumbles for his glasses on the side and looks down at the box, once more recognising the handwriting.

“It’s from mum,” he says quietly, pushing himself up the bed and lifting the duvet so Dan can skootch in beside him. They pull open the cardboard bit by bit until they make it inside, and there’s a note on top.

_Heard you boys were having a rough time, here’s some things to cheer you up. Love, Mum x_

Dan visibly softens upon reading the note, looking over at Phil, who is equally taken aback by the gentle nature of the package. But Dan smiles gently, leans over to press a kiss to Phil’s lips, and they dig into the box.

There are little post-it notes over everything in the box. There’s a packet of fancy decaf coffee ( _caffeine isn’t good for anxiety, dan, drink this instead_ ), a big, fluffy blanket ( _keep each other happy and warm_ ), and in the bottom there’s an envelope with _come up and see us soon please, we miss your faces_ written on the front. Inside are two open tickets to Manchester. Their safe space, just when they need it most. Dan looks up at Phil, gentle awe on his face.

“What did you say to her?” he asks quietly. Phil shrugs.

“Not much,” he says. “Just that… things aren’t great right now.” He mumbles the last part out, almost afraid to look up, but a hand winds its way into his and when he looks up Dan leans in to peck his cheek.

“Thank you,” he says, grinning. “You Lesters are too good.”

* * *

_“How long are you staying, Dan?”_ Kath asks through the phone. Dan looks up from his own phone.

“Uh, just till Christmas Eve,” he says. “Gotta stay away from home as long as possible,” he adds with a laugh.

_“Oh,”_ Kath says gently, and Phil can hear the slight twinge of hurt in her voice. _“What’s that about?”_

Phil’s surprised that this is the first time his mum’s ever heard Dan joke like that. He’s said those things a lot around Phil, and has been saying them ever since he first came up to Manchester all those years ago.

“It’s not really _them_ ,” Dan says, sighing resignedly. “It’s just that town, that house. So much shit happened there, it’s hard to go back sometimes.”

Kath doesn’t know the full story of Dan’s childhood. Sometimes Phil feels like he doesn’t know all of it either, not that he’d ever hold that against Dan. But they both know enough, and they can both understand that Wokingham doesn’t hold many kinds of fond memories for Dan. Instinctively, Phil’s hand reaches up and twines through Dan’s hair in comfort, and he receives a grateful look in return.

“How much space do you have in your luggage, Dan?” Kath asks on Christmas Eve morning.

“Enough for all those mince pies you want me to take, don’t worry,” Dan laughs, pulling open his rucsac.

“Enough for this?” Kath asks, lifting a big cardboard box up. Phil watches Dan’s face go through a few emotions then; confusion, frustration, and then something gentle and soft. It doesn’t look unlike the box that they received all those years ago, during a shit time, and Phil wonders if it’s another one of these well-timed Kath care packages. He tries to keep a straight face as Dan begins to look about at his little suitcase and rucsac, the cogs turning in his mind as he figures out how to manage it. But really, Phil feels an immense rush of emotion at the level of mothering Kath has gone to in order to give Dan something special and comforting to go home with. Something to make it feel a little easier.

Dan’s home in Wokingham, unpacking his things in his tiny brown room, before he has a chance to open the package. _Dan x_ is written neatly in sharpie and he takes care to get into it. There’s a note on top for him.

_Hopefully this will cheer you up on the nights when things are too much. Love, Mum x_

_give my love to your other mother x_

He sits staring at the signing of “mum” on the note for a while before he actually delves into the package. He’s always seen Kath as a second mother. He just didn’t know that mother-son feeling was mutual. A warmth settles in his chest as he reads it over and over, and refuses to leave. It’s a new, not quite familiar feeling, and he has to move on from the note before the wave of emotion becomes overwhelming.

Everything is wrapped very neatly, and as Dan opens things, he feels more and more emotion begin to take over, until his eyes are misting and he has to stop before he cries on something. There are some nice candles, just like Kath knows he likes. There’s a Tupperware box of cakes, with _don’t tell Phil_ written on the wrapping. There’s even a framed photo from an old Florida holiday, with Dan and Phil and Kath in between them, looking tiny and beaming. It’s perfect, and it reminds him that there’s a world outside of this room, this house, this town. A world where he found acceptance and love when he needed it most. A world that loved him while he learnt to love himself.

* * *

_“So what have you boys been up to this week?”_ Kath asks as they sit on Skype together.

“Well,” Dan says with a laugh, sharing a look with Phil, “We’ve got a bit of a rescue operation going on.”

Kath raises her eyebrows and Phil grins.

“You know all about Steve the pigeon,” he says, and Kath nods. “He’s in danger!”

_“Oh no!”_ Kath says with a dramatic gasp. Phil explains to her the tweet that started it all, the training, the arrival of Scraggy, even the passive aggressive email he got from one vet.

“I think it was more aggressive than passive, Phil,” Dan laughs.

_“Did they manage to get the wire off his foot?”_ Kath asks, leaning forward. Already she’s invested, and Dan feels warmth settle in his chest as he watches her and Phil interact. Even over Skype, it’s obvious how much dedication Kath has to her son, and it makes Dan’s heart ache with love for them both.

“Not yet,” Phil says, “We’ve got to get him trained by Wednesday so that we can take him in.”

_“Sounds like you’re going to be a bit busy then,”_ Kath laughs.

The package arrives a few days later, on Tuesday. Dan gives Phil a shout as he carries it through to their apartment, and Phil sticks his head out from the balcony.

“I think this might be from your mother,” he grins as he walks into view, setting the box down on their table.

Phil perks up, walking over to help Dan pull open the box. Inside is a handwritten note, just like always.

_For Dan and Phil. Give my love to the kids. Mum x_

Dan can’t pretend the note doesn’t give him a shot of fondness, aching for a time that hasn’t quite arrived yet, where there might be actual children running around their house for them to hold close and tell them that their Nana Lester says hi. He doesn’t have time to hold that thought for long though, as Phil begins to search through the package. He’s quick to find a bag of assorted liquorice, which Dan turns his nose up at immediately. He’s about to open his mouth and complain when he sees a bag of hard butterscotch sweets and he’s happy again. There’s a couple of fancy looking bath bombs in there, which have made the whole box smell like a Lush store, and at the bottom there’s a big bag of expensive looking bird seed.

“She really went all out, huh?” Dan says as he pulls open the bag of sweets, popping one in his mouth. He pulls out his phone to text Kath.

**Dan: we got your care package! thank you so much the sweet treats are greatly appreciated x**

**Kath: It’s the least we can do Dan, we’ve missed seeing your faces this year xx**

Dan replies with a couple of heart emojis and a promise to come and visit them as soon as they feel safe enough. He looks up to see Phil pulling a face.

“You okay there?” he asks with a laugh.

“I don’t know what this is,” Phil says, his face never leaving its disgusted state, “But it’s not tasty.”

“That’ll be the liquorice, mate,” Dan says. Phil flips him off and scours the packet for a description of flavours.

“Kiwi?” he says, his eyebrows raising.

“Kiwi liquorice?” Dan echoes, pulling a face similar to Phil’s.

“The review is zero out of ten,” Phil says. He pulls out his phone and goes straight to Google. Dan catches a glimpse of his screen and rolls his eyes.

“Really?” he asks, deadpan.

“I don’t want to waste it!” Phil whines.

_Can birds have liquorice?_ Is what he types into the search bar. A few minutes later he looks up.

“This person says it’s fine in very small doses,” he says, showing Dan the screen, “But this person just says no.” Dan laughs, rolling his eyes.

“You’re not feeding Steve any of that shit,” he tells Phil sternly. “Look at the fancy seed they sent us, why can’t you just give him that?”

“ _Fine_ ,” Phil says sarcastically, dragging the word out like a child. “Maybe this will tempt him into the crate in time for Wednesday,” he says with a grin.

Kath texts Phil to ask about Steve on Wednesday night, eager to find out how he is.

**Phil: He’s all good! We gave him some of your fancy seed as a treat but it was totally upstaged by the bread the vets gave him**

**Kath: I should’ve just sent you some baps instead of forking out on that expensive stuff, if that’s all he cares about**

**Phil: I’m sure he appreciates the seed very much mum, just like we did**

**Kath: Love you child**

**Phil: Love you too, mum**

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments are appreciated, come scream at me on tumblr @ panlesters


End file.
